So the date was set for tonight. And, although I know people had got food poisening from Dave’s Dungeon, I was slightly looking forward to it. I rarely go out to resturants, mainly because these days you have to pay for the food when you’ve finished, and you’re full. The worst time to pay for food, in my opinion. These new pub style resturants are great because you pay before, when you’re hungry. The posher resturants should take note, make them pay before and you’ll double their bill. Onion rings, extra portion of chips, another side of chicken wings! Why not? I’m hungry!
I could have just not turned up, of course. It was Steve’s birthday meal with Mary. But it was my idea to go, and it wasn’t as if it was a romantic, coupley dinner. It was at Dave’s Dungeon. The only romantic thing about it was that the place was dimly lit. Mainly because it’s underground.
I tried to turn up fashionably late. I always try to, but it never works out. Arriving first is the worst thing in the world. You can opt to wait outside in the cold, wrapping the coat around you whilst you wait for the fashionable ones. Or you can go inside, explain to the man on the door that you’re the idiot who turns up first for things, sit down at a huge table on your own and wait. Tapping buttons pointlessly on your phone, waiting for people who decided to wait that extra half hour to set off.
So I arrived first. Dave’s Dungeon is at the top of a rather steep hill beside the church. The glass doors were open to invite me in, down a few steps and to the bar. I ordered a drink and sat down. To my left was the resturant, with a mix of post-modern furniture and dark gothic walls, the place looked rather cosy. Spot lights were set into the bare brick walls and shiny leather booths occupied the back of the room, where a few people where sat in the middle of their meal.
Mary and Steve soon arrived, bumbling in behind me, screeching with excitment. Steve spent the first ten minutes glaring around the room, as if he’d got a free pass to the Playboy mansion.
‘Have you booked a table, guys?’ The young lad asked us behind the bar.
‘Yes, table 3.’
‘That’s a table for two.’ He said, a little confused.
‘Yes, could we change that? To a table for three?’ Mary asked, with one narrowed eye on me.
‘Of course. So, that’s table three for three.’ He smiled.
We sat down at the small table. The young man’s idea of changing our table was to just shove another chair under it, not to change the actual table. It seemed that now we’d got half a plate’s worth of space to eat.
‘This is nice.’ I said calmly, trying to break Mary’s stare.
‘Yes, but I wonder where Dave is. Excuse me!’ Steve ushered the young lad over to us. ‘Where’s Dave?’
‘Dave who?’
‘Dave. As in ‘Dave’...of ‘Dave’s Dungeon’. The owner.’
‘Oh, he left last year. I own this place now.’
Steve appeared rather upset. I was a little shocked too. This lad looked a little younger than me, a slight man with short black hair and sharp features. Someone did well in Business Studies.
‘You own...the entire place?’
No Steve, he just owns the plant pot in the corner.
‘Yes.’ He said. ‘ I'm Paul. The owner. And also your waiter for this evening.’
Looks like someone did really well in Business Studies. The owner and the waiter. He was cutting costs left right and centre. If he was his only employee he’d be making a lot of profit. Good luck to him.
‘Well, Paul.’ Mary broke the silence. ‘Since it’s my boyfriends birthday, I’d like to buy him a beer.’
‘OK, and is that a glass or tankard?’
Oh, yes. I forgot to tell you. This place does tankards.
‘Tankard!’ Mary smiled. ‘You want a tankard, yeah?’ She asked Steve.
‘So where has Dave gone?’ He asked Paul.
‘Retired I think.’ Paul shrugged.
Steve looked really let down. His eyebrows fell about four foot as he stared down at his cutlery.
‘Did he say anything...before he...’
He’s not dead, Steve! He’s just not working anymore. I know he’s still got his name on the front, but Paul’s Dungeon would sound a bit shit.
‘It’s your birthday, is it? Consider your tankard free!’ Paul smiled.
That seemed to lift Steve’s spirit a bit.
‘What have you got for your birthday, then?’
‘Well, a table here, from Mary.’ Steve said.
My idea.
‘A paintings set. A new Star Wars mug...’
‘Oh, Star Wars. Don’t get me started...’ Paul shook his head.
‘What?’
Steve looked menacing for the first time in his life.
‘I just never got into it. Anyway, a beer for you. What would you like, madam?’
‘What do you mean?' Steve asked.
'I just never got into it.' Paul shrugged.
'Star Wars?' He asked, as if Paul had got confused with another film.
'Yeah. Not for me.'
Normal people would leave it there. I mean, I never really got into Star Wars, but to offer your opinion to strangers whilst your working is a bit odd.
'Why not?'
'Steve.' Mary warned.
'Hang on, love. Why not?'
Paul shrugged again. His explanation so far hadn't gotten him far.
'Just didn't like it. R 2 3pio...'
'R2D2. C3pio...' Steve corrected him firmly.
'Yeah, him. Me and misses tried to watch one the other night. The Phantom Solace?'
'The Phantom Menace.'
'What did I say?'
'The Phantom Solace.' Mary and Steve spoke together.
Mary and Steve were now glaring at Paul, who was now just finding out that he was digging his own grave.
'Oh yeah, where did I get that from?' He smiled.
'The Phantom Menace is a Star Wars film. The Quantum of Solace is...'
'Leave it, Dylan.' Steve demanded, still staring at Paul.
Paul started to sweat as he swallowed hard. I wanted a drink, but I couldn't just say what I wanted, I needed Paul to ask, that's his job. But he was concentrating on sweating, so I thought I'd go for it.
'I'll have another coke, please.'
'No, you won't.' Steve barked.
'What?'
'We're leaving.'
'What?' The three of us asked Steve.
Steve stood up and grabbed his coat.
'You're not Dave. You're an idiot!'
'What? Just because I don't know about Star Wars?'
'Correct!'
Steve and Mary made their way out, making a scene amongst a few other diners at the back of the room.
'Well, I'm sorry If I don't know about bloody, Chewbacca or Dark Vader!'
'Darth Vader...Darth!' Steve shouted back at him.
There were a few mumbling from the people at the back as Steve and Mary slammed the glass door behind them. Paul looked over at me, wondering why I was still sat down. I was hungry. But something was still niggling me.
'Do people still get food poisoning here?'
Paul stared at me.
'Get out.'
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